


En el Tiempo que se Tarda en Respirar Siete Veces

by gemjam



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Blindfolds, Bondage, D/s, M/M, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-07
Updated: 2012-05-07
Packaged: 2017-11-05 00:27:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/399874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gemjam/pseuds/gemjam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark knows just how to get inside Fernando's head, and Fernando's more than happy to invite him in there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	En el Tiempo que se Tarda en Respirar Siete Veces

**Author's Note:**

> Many many thanks to zeraparker@livejournal for the beta, you are wonderful.

The sun streamed in through the window as Mark’s body covered his own. Fernando arched upwards, pressing their naked skin together. The daylight made him feel self-conscious, more aware of everything he was doing, no shadows to hide away his wanton need or his clumsy impatience. The way Mark looked at him always made him unafraid to be watched, confident enough to know that he at least wasn’t repulsive, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t more than capable of making an idiot out of himself in a million tiny ways.

There was something he loved about the sunlight though, something he loved about fucking when everyone else was awake and going about their lives. At night, in the dark, it was acceptable, like a dirty little secret nestled away out of view. Doing this during the day seemed brash, like they were doing it under everyone’s noses, subverting their rules. It made something light up in his head, made him sink into the mattress with a sweet surrender, that floaty sensation hovering just beyond his fingertips.

He reached his arms upwards, stretching them above his head as he closed his eyes, concentrating on the feel of Mark’s cock rubbing against his own. He sighed, fingers splaying outwards, pressing his wrists into the pillows as if someone was holding them down.

“Put your arms down or I’m going to stop.”

Mark’s firm voice cut through his blissful mindset and he whined, squirming slightly.

“Is Wednesday.”

“Still here to race,” Mark responded.

Fernando opened his eyes, wishing that just for once Mark could relax about it a little bit. Rules were rules and race weekends were _‘not for your debauched little fantasies, mate.’_ Fernando more than understood that fact, but it didn’t make the need inside him go away.

“Put your arms down,” Mark insisted.

“I like it,” Fernando responded. “Is no harm.”

Mark shrugged, beginning to get up. Fernando made a desperate noise, reaching out for him. He grabbed hold of his shoulders, pulling him back down.

“Sorry,” Fernando appealed. “ _Lo siento_ , sorry, I stop.”

Mark stilled, holding his body slightly above Fernando’s as he stared down at him. “That’s not what we’re doing.”

Fernando nodded. “I know.”

Mark sighed with something like disappointment. He studied Fernando’s face. “You don’t go there on your own. I take you there.” Fernando nodded again. He didn’t know what else to do. Mark leaned down, his lips grazing Fernando’s ear. “And you have to ask first,” he whispered, the words breathy and dark. Fernando shivered, a tiny noise escaping him. “Don’t ask, don’t get.”

“ _Si_ ,” Fernando breathed.

“Now fucking behave yourself,” Mark told him, his voice suddenly friendly, no edge there that made Fernando want to disappear into him. He rolled off Fernando. “And you can go on top. Do some of the fucking work for once. Might stop your mind from drifting off so much.”

Fernando moved on top of him, feeling that headspace slipping out of his grasp. As Mark’s arms wrapped around him, Fernando looked down at him. Mark’s face was slightly flushed, his eyes shining darkly, and as they began to move together again, Fernando was grateful for the sunshine streaming in through the window, showing him everything.

*

Fernando walked into the living room to see Mark stretched out on the sofa, Shadow and Simba sprawled alongside him. He was totally focused on them, smiling softly as he tickled behind the ears of the sleepy, contented dogs. Fernando stood in the doorway, watching the way Mark’s fingers dug satisfyingly into their fur, and he found himself biting down on his lip.

Mark tipped his head back, looking over at him. “What’s wrong with you?” he asked.

Fernando shifted on his feet. “I am just wondering where there is space for me,” he stated.

“I’m sure there’s room for a little one,” Mark told him.

Fernando stared at Mark’s fingers at they played idly over the dog’s fur. It felt so pathetic to be jealous of Mark’s pets that he could barely stand to admit it to himself, but it had been far too long since Mark had touched him in that way; caring and indulgent. He loved those lingering caresses that made his toes curl with anticipation, that aching want deep inside building until he could barely stand it anymore. He loved when Mark was tender with him, when he made him feel so safe that surrender was the only option, and the things that Mark could do with his surrender never failed to blow his mind.

He swallowed, trying to push the thought from his mind. “I think I will go upstairs,” he stated, turning on his heel.

“Be good,” Mark called cheerily after him.

The words made Fernando freeze, his stomach flipping over. His pulse quickened, senses opening up in the way they might if danger were near. It was as though he’d heard a snapping branch deep in the woods and was trying to decide whether to run for his life or stay and see how it unfolded.

He turned back around, looking over at Mark who still had his head tilted back. As they stared at one another Fernando found himself taking his lip back between his teeth, worrying it while he tried to make his mind up. The dogs were in the way, he decided, and Mark was making fun of him anyway. Sometimes Fernando hated those dogs as much as he hated Mark’s sense of humour.

“Go on,” Mark encouraged. His voice wasn’t gentle though, wasn’t imploring. He was smirking and Fernando knew exactly what kind of game this was, but he could feel the words being pulled out of him anyway.

“Good boy?” Fernando asked, attempting to prompt the words he wanted from Mark.

Mark smiled wider and then snorted a laugh, looking back down at his dogs. “Be good,” he repeated, a clear denial.

Fernando shut his mouth before he said anything he’d regret, turning around and jogging up the stairs.

*

Fernando was curled up in the corner of Mark’s big sofa, immersed in a book. The rain had been pattering against the window for a while now, a comforting sound that was making him feel pleasantly sleepy. Mark, out walking the dogs, would surely be soaked to the skin by now.

Fernando heard the back door open and close, the sound of wet paws padding across the kitchen floor. Mark was making a fuss of them, probably drying them off with those old towels he kept stacked up by the washing machine. Fernando crinkled his nose slightly, snuggling further down into the sofa.

Mark came through wearing just his boxers and a T-shirt, the rest of his wet clothes clearly abandoned in the laundry. Fernando watched him as he made his way across the room.

“Mark.”

“Taking a shower, mate,” Mark called back, waving a hand vaguely in Fernando’s direction.

“You look like you have already had one,” Fernando responded. Mark turned around, smiling at him as he disappeared through the doorway.

Fernando turned his attention back to his book, allowing himself to get drawn in again. The rain became heavier outside, making Fernando tug one of the blankets off the back of the sofa, pulling it onto his lap. He could hear the dogs snuffling around in the kitchen, heard one of them whine, but then luckily they quieted, presumably settling into their baskets. If they were still fussing when Mark came down he would undoubtedly let them in and the last thing Fernando wanted was his peace and quiet invaded by wet dog smell.

When Mark returned he was glowing a slight pink, looking so incredibly warm and inviting. Fernando looked him up and down, his jeans and T-shirt and cardigan, comfortable and completely at ease. He sat down a little away from Fernando, reaching over and tilting his book upwards to read the cover.

“ _Español_ ,” Fernando told him.

“ _Si_ ,” Mark agreed, reaching for the TV remote.

Fernando stretched his legs out, his feet slipping free of the blanket and resting in Mark’s lap. Without looking away from flicking through the sports channels, Mark slid one hand past the hem of Fernando’s jeans, fingers gently rubbing over his ankle. Fernando made a contented noise, all of those wants awakening so easily beneath his skin. He pushed his body further into the sofa cushions as he placed his book aside, everything focused on Mark.

Sometimes it overwhelmed him, his need to be owned, but Mark never acted when Fernando was at his most desperate. He waited, let the hot desperation turn into a constant itch, less intense than the initial impulse but impossible to ignore in its persistence. It lay there beneath his skin, making him want to tear at his flesh but never quite understanding why until Mark touched him like this, caring and gentle, reminding him of the only thing that would be able to put him at ease.

“Mark?”

“Hmm?” Mark responded, intently focused on the football game playing on the screen.

Fernando thought about his next words carefully, probably too carefully. He knew that this was the real moment of submission; not when he got down on his knees, not when he handed Mark his body, not when his mind went to that wonderful place deep down inside him where he was vulnerable and helpless and completely at Mark’s mercy. The only moment that really counted was the moment when Fernando got up the courage to _ask_.

It was a matter of pride, he knew that. Fernando didn’t like wanting anything from anybody and so the fact that he _needed_ this from Mark was constantly humbling. He knew that Mark used his stubbornness as a measure of just how much he wanted it. If Fernando could bring himself to say the words, then Mark knew he was ready to appreciate what came next and it would be infinitely more rewarding for both of them.

Fernando drew his feet back and pushed the blanket aside, crawling over to Mark and curling up by his side. Mark lifted his arm, offering him a space to move into, and then wrapped it securely around Fernando’s body, holding him tight.

“Mark?” Fernando said again, his heart beating too fast. “Can we…?” He trailed off, ducking his head down and pressing it into Mark’s chest. He breathed in, slow and deep. Mark was still warm from his shower and the cotton of his T-shirt smelt fresh and clean and so inviting. Fernando made a little noise of approval, wanting to burrow deeper and see if he could disappear completely.

Mark’s fingers moved over his arm, just below the sleeve of his T-shirt, threatening to send a shiver through him. He lifted his head, swallowing down his unease as he tried to put the words together.

“Look after me,” he finally implored, not daring to look Mark in the eye.

“I do,” Mark replied easily, clearly not willing to let him get away with that.

Fernando closed his eyes and pressed himself further into Mark. “Own me?”

The words were quiet, barely a whisper. He held his breath, counting down the seconds in his head. It was unbearable, those few moments of freefall between taking the leap and being caught by Mark. He never had any doubt that Mark was waiting there, arms open, to draw him in, but it hurt every time, dangling there exposed with the prospect of rejection.

He counted to four this time before Mark placed a kiss to the top of his head. The highest he’d ever let Fernando count to was five. Sometimes Fernando wondered if Mark knew; if he was counting too.

“Okay,” came Mark’s own hushed words. He patted his thigh. “Lie down.”

Fernando slid downwards, the tension in his muscles draining from him in an instant. He rested his head on Mark’s thigh, warm beneath the soft, worn denim, and stretched out his legs. His toe nudged against his book and he kicked it away, a reminder of his happy independence from earlier that evening. The thought of being self-sufficient, of entertaining himself, seemed like such a terrible bore and nowhere near satisfying enough now.

Mark’s fingers slid through his hair, pressing satisfyingly against his scalp beneath. It was a soothing sensation, repetitive and comforting. He focused especially behind Fernando’s ear, at the base of his skull, the same places Fernando knew Mark focused on when he was tickling his dogs. It wasn’t a derogatory thought to Fernando, he didn’t find the comparison humiliating at all. Mark loved his dogs, spoiled them, looked after them. They were his, just like Fernando was his, and when Mark touched him like this, Fernando wanted to paw affectionately at him, just like Shadow and Simba always did.

He settled for making pleased little noises, rubbing his cheek against Mark’s thigh. Mark began to play his fingers along Fernando’s neck, the touch feeling so much more ticklish without Fernando’s hair to dull the sensation. He squirmed slightly, happily, Mark sliding his hand around to tickle under his chin, making him lift his head up in offering.

By the time Mark was lifting his T-shirt up, running his hand smoothly up and down Fernando’s side, dipping down occasionally to stroke over his stomach, Fernando was so relaxed, humming contentedly at the feel of Mark’s fingertips against his skin. He loved these long, lazy caresses, the simplicity and intimacy of them. He loved how free it made him feel, being taken care of like this, how it cleared his mind and opened him up to whatever Mark wanted to do with him next.

He wanted that right now, was becoming impatient for it. His mind began to wander, filling up with all the possibilities. Mark seemed lazy so it would probably be drawn out, a slow burn, teasing and orgasm denial that left him begging and whimpering. But Mark could always be lulling him into a false sense of security, all of this sensuous build up giving way to some rough finger fucking, Mark demanding that he get himself off while he watched before dragging him upstairs and starting all over again with him, making him come until it hurt.

“Fernando?”

He opened his eyes, blinking away the fantasies. He felt embarrassed by them, as though Mark could see right into his mind. “Yes?” he responded, forcing himself to speak.

Verbal responses were part of the deal, whether he felt like he could form the words or not. If Fernando couldn’t speak, Mark would always wait until he could. Sometimes Fernando wished he’d just leave him out there on the brink, he was happy enough there, he trusted Mark enough, but Mark liked the security of Fernando’s consent and understanding, and Fernando couldn’t really help but respect that, feel touched by it.

“Listening?” Mark prompted, clearly aware that Fernando was far from focused in the moment.

“Listening,” Fernando agreed, and he made a real effort to do so.

“I want you to go upstairs,” Mark told him, voice slow and clear. “Bring me the lube. And get your box out, put it on the bed. I want you to take your plug out and bring that down too.”

Fernando nodded. “Lube,” he agreed. “Plug.”

“Where is your box going?” Mark asked.

“On the bed,” Fernando said.

“Good boy,” Mark told him, a smile in his voice, and Fernando felt a swell of pride. As his hand slid from Fernando’s T-shirt, Mark leaned down to place a kiss on the top of Fernando’s head, patting him twice on the arse. Fernando took the hint, climbing to his feet.

His legs felt slightly unsteady as he made his way across the room and he tried not to think about how much he wanted to be curled back up with Mark on that sofa. Fernando was such a tactile person, he adored being touched, from feather light caresses to bruising restraints. Mark’s physical presence was such a comfort to him when he was asked to let his mind fly free and so being asked to go upstairs alone made Fernando feel incredibly insecure.

He held onto the banister and took the stairs one at a time, reminding himself to be grateful that he was allowed straight back down again once he’d collected the items that Mark had asked for. There were times that Mark had told him to simply go upstairs and wait for him, Fernando laying out on the bed and staring at the clock as his insecurities ate away at him, every minute feeling like an hour.

When he reached the bedroom he knelt down in front of the dresser, opening the bottom drawer and moving the shirts aside to find his box buried beneath. He was sure that Mark kept it there just to make sure Fernando had to kneel every time he went to retrieve it. Fernando didn’t mind; he liked being put in his place.

He closed the drawer and shuffled on his knees over to the bed, placing the box down on the covers. He licked his lips as he ran a hand over the lid, the soft leather feeling cool under his fingers. The anticipation made him kneel a little taller, eager and alert as his fingers moved down to the metal clasp, flipping it open.

As he lifted the lid his eyes scanned greedily over the objects inside. He knew what he was looking for, saw it immediately, but he couldn’t help tracing a single finger over the satin padding inside his leather cuffs, running the silky ties through his fingers, feeling the weight of the paddle. He breathed too heavily through parted lips as he explored the objects one by one and then forced himself to return them neatly to their places, ignoring the throbbing in his dick. He shouldn’t be indulging himself like this without permission, but then what did Mark think would happen when he sent Fernando up here to open his box? This, Fernando realised. Mark wanted this to happen, Fernando getting lost in all the possibilities.

He breathed in deep and took the red buttplug from the box, replacing the lid and fastening the clasp again. All of Fernando’s toys were red or red accented, Mark joking that it was in his Ferrari contract, but Fernando knew it was just one more way for Mark to crawl inside his head, wrapping his tendrils around every part of Fernando’s life.

Fernando moved over to the bedside, taking the lube from the drawer and pushing himself back up onto his feet. He took one last glance at the box, feeling a familiar throb in his groin, and then turned around, trying to level his breathing out as he headed down the stairs.

Mark was fully immersed in the football game when Fernando returned. He hesitated in the doorway for a moment, feeling a small tug of disappointment. Fernando knew that he was needy, probably irritatingly so, and he also knew that it was unreasonable to expect Mark to drop everything when he walked into the room, whether he was holding sex toys in his hand or not. He was used to the way Mark was, cool and unflustered where Fernando was fiery and passionate, but he still stood there for a moment longer, feet rooted to the spot until Mark finally looked up at him, his attention the silent permission Fernando needed to move forward.

When he got near, he held out his hand, offering the objects to Mark. Mark just reached past them, hooking a finger into the belt loop of Fernando’s jeans and giving a hard yank, forcing him to stumble forwards. Mark’s face remained impartial as he unfastened the button and pulled down the zip before finally taking the buttplug and lube from Fernando’s hand.

“Thank you,” he stated, placing them carelessly beside him on the sofa, as though he didn’t really want them at all. “Come on, out the way,” he told Fernando, patting his thigh again.

Fernando stepped out of the way, studying Mark for a moment longer before he climbed back onto the sofa with him, his head resting back down in Mark’s lap. Mark ran his fingers through Fernando’s hair again, unfocused caresses that made Fernando sigh anyway, his eyes falling closed as his hair was combed back away from his face. He felt safe here, on Mark’s knee, in Mark’s care. He felt as if nothing could touch him, the whole world fading away into insignificance. Fernando didn’t have the energy for self-doubt when Mark was treating him with such simple affection as though he were completely deserving of it.

Mark’s fingers stroked over Fernando’s cheek and then he lifted his hand away. Fernando could feel his body shifting slightly and he expected Mark to reach down, slide his hand underneath Fernando’s T-shirt again to stroke down his side, but instead he slid it down the back of Fernando’s jeans, into his underwear, fingers following the curve of Fernando’s arse. Fernando drew in a breath, his body tensing with anticipation. He waited, expecting the hand to delve deeper, but Mark slipped it back out again, brushing against the small of Fernando’s back before hooking his fingers into Fernando’s waistband, sliding his jeans and boxers down to just below his arse.

Fernando made an involuntary noise low in his throat. He pressed his face into Mark’s thigh, his body following the motion as his hips angled downwards towards the sofa, his arse pushing higher in offering. Mark’s fingers raked firmly through the newly exposed hair at the nape of Fernando’s neck, the sensation making him shiver, before his ears pricked up at the sound of the lube being flipped open.

“Yes?” Mark asked, voice quiet but strong.

Fernando nodded. “Yes,” he rasped out, muffled by the denim of Mark’s jeans.

He whimpered as he felt the slippery finger slide between his cheeks, finding his hole. Mark slipped his finger inside to the first knuckle, pushing past the still tense muscle before resting it there. Fernando became too aware of everything his body was doing, knowing that Mark would feel every clench and flutter of the muscles there. He concentrated on being open, relaxed, trying to take in steady breaths, but he couldn’t help letting out a long whine of frustration.

Mark began to move his finger, not pulling out to fuck Fernando with it but instead simply forcing it deeper, an insistent pressure that seemed to transfer through the whole of Fernando’s body, making it hard for him to breathe. He pressed his mouth against Mark’s thigh but the noise escaped him anyway, humming a single note of desperation.

Mark’s finger made its way ever deeper, an irritatingly slow process that gave none of the satisfying friction of a fuck. He wanted that push and pull, the delicious slide in and out. This just felt mechanical, a means to an end, reminding Fernando how little this was about him. It was Fernando’s body but what was happening to it was for Mark’s benefit. The thrill that went through Fernando at that thought never failed to make him feel like he was flying, if only for a moment.

When Mark finally had his finger buried as deep as it would go, he pulled it immediately out again, Fernando making a petulant noise of disappointment. Mark pressed two fingers against his entrance, rubbing them in an alternating rhythm over the hole, forcing it to open up to him. Fernando pressed back, inviting him further, begging without words for them to slip inside. Mark conceded, pushing the fingers deep, not waiting for Fernando’s body to offer permission this time but willingly fighting against the resistance before he crooked them, rubbing hard against Fernando’s prostate. Fernando cried out, hips pressing further into the sofa, rubbing his hard cock against the layers of clothing it was still trapped by.

Mark didn’t indulge him for long, sliding his fingers out before pushing them firmly back in deep again, missing his prostate and setting up a steady rhythm that managed to be maddeningly good but nowhere near enough. Fernando wanted to bite down on Mark’s thigh but instead he dug his teeth into his own bottom lip, strained noises forced out from deep down inside him. Mark’s fingers opened up inside him, scissoring, stretching, and Fernando let out a high pitched sound, his hands clenched into fists in the material of his own T-shirt.

He was just starting to get lost in the rhythm when Mark pulled his fingers out, making Fernando suddenly uncomfortably aware of where he was. He shifted his body, rubbing his face against Mark’s thigh as if he could disappear back to where he was if he just willed it hard enough.

“Shh shh shh,” Mark soothed and Fernando didn’t realise until that moment that he was making whining noises. Then he heard the bottle top clicking off the lube again and he quieted, knowing what was coming next.

He took deep breaths, or as deep as he could buried in the denim of Mark’s jeans, his head angled slightly towards Mark’s body. He could smell him, the beginnings of arousal taking over from the tangy scent of his shower gel, and it made him impatient, made him want to take without asking. His fingers twitched slightly with the desire to reach out but he concentrated again on his breathing, in and out, until he felt the rubber tip of the plug pressing against his arse.

He shifted again, hips pushing shamelessly upwards. The cool, smooth feel of the toy was so different from the hot feeling of Mark’s fingers with all their bumps and imperfections. This felt impersonal; less like a mutual sex act and more like being a plaything. He didn’t think he’d ever get past his pride long enough to explain just how much he adored that feeling, but he got the impression that Mark knew all too well what it did to him and just how much Fernando loved it.

The plug quickly became thicker than Mark’s fingers, forcing Fernando open as it eased inside him. Mark pushed it a little way in and then allowed it to naturally slide almost out before doing it again, going a little further each time. The repetitive rhythm, the gentle stretching, it all made Fernando sigh contentedly, practically melting into the sofa cushions.

His need was no less intense but it felt inexact now, spreading warmly through his body instead of focused below the waist. He needed this everywhere, with everything he had, needed Mark to have all of him to do whatever he wanted with. He needed Mark to take him and pull him apart, piece by piece, laying him out, exposing him, before finally putting him back together again, more secure than before.

When the plug got to its widest point, the stretch becoming uncomfortable, Fernando keened, his body instinctively tensing. The sensation was so real and present, so tied to his physical being, that he could barely process it. He set his mind instead to what it meant, the power he was offering Mark, the trust he had in him, and then he felt himself let go, a million tiny surrenders through every inch of his body. The plug slid easily inside him then, settling into place, a heavy fullness that Fernando always found strangely comforting, even if he couldn’t quite put his finger on why. He mumbled something that might have been _thank you_ if he could have remembered what words were.

Mark tugged at his trousers, pulling the denim back over Fernando’s arse, dressing him again. Fernando made a tiny noise of protest. That meant Mark had finished with him for now. No more playing, no more indulgence, no more breaking through barriers Fernando never realised were there until Mark smashed them down. He felt the beginnings of panic rising up in him, hoping that Mark was perceptive enough to realise Fernando’s head was fully elsewhere and Mark better not set him a menial task like doing the washing up in an attempt to draw out the anticipation.

Fernando liked that, loved it actually, being made to do boring housework with his plug in, knowing what his reward would be, but that was for quick and cheeky sessions. Fernando was definitely way past that now. He knew that he shouldn’t ever doubt Mark though. Mark was the one who pushed Fernando to these places and he always seemed to instinctively know how much Fernando could handle, even when Fernando felt like he couldn’t work it out himself.

Mark’s fingers began to comb through his hair again and Fernando shifted himself back onto his side, wincing slightly at the feel of the plug inside him. He settled down, the movement of Mark’s hand lulling him off towards sleep, making him feel safe. The noise of the football game began to sound like white noise, distant and indistinct. He had Mark’s thigh beneath his cheek to anchor him, Mark’s fingers in his hair to guide him, and he let the rest of it float away.

“Fernando.”

Mark’s voice was clear and inescapable and when Fernando opened his heavy eyelids he realised it was the only sound in the room, the TV switched off. He turned himself so that he could look up at Mark’s face.

“Tired?” Mark asked, a smile gracing his lips that was edging towards smug. Fernando shook his head, not wanting to give Mark an excuse to draw this out any longer. “You were asleep,” Mark pointed out.

“Only a bit,” Fernando protested.

Mark nodded, seeming content, but Fernando guessed it had more to do with the fact that he’d spoken than what he’d actually said.

“Do you want to go upstairs?” Mark asked.

“Yes,” Fernando replied. “Please.”

“You’re a good boy,” Mark told him, running his hand through Fernando’s hair one last time before giving his shoulder a little shove.

Fernando sat up slowly, wary of going dizzy. He was always careful with himself when he was like this, behaviour he’d learned from Mark. When he was confident that his head wasn’t going to start spinning he pushed himself up to his feet. Mark stood with him, his hand going to the small of Fernando’s back, guiding him with a gentle pressure to walk.

Each step made the plug inside Fernando shift, reminding him, along with Mark’s guiding hand, that they weren’t simply going upstairs for a fuck. The sex was secondary to what they were really doing here; indulging in something so much more intimate than anything purely physical could be.

They reached the bedroom and Fernando hesitated halfway between the door and the bed, waiting for instruction. “Sit,” Mark told him, his hand on Fernando’s back giving a small push before falling away, leaving Fernando to follow through on his own.

As Fernando sat, the plug nudged deeper inside him, making him grunt slightly. He shifted, trying to adjust it, get comfortable, but then he forced himself to still, hands on his knees, as Mark approached. He stood directly in front of Fernando, looking down at him, and Fernando liked the way he had to tilt his head back to look into Mark’s eyes.

“Clench,” Mark told him. Without even thinking about it Fernando tightened his muscles around the plug, feeling the hard intrusion even more keenly than before. “Hold it,” Mark instructed. “Hold it, hold it.”

Fernando’s breaths came out shallow and shaky as he concentrated, gripping the plug with his body as tightly as he could. It made him feel fuller, held open, reminding him of its purpose. He loved the idea of being saved for later, his body reduced down to something that was simply there for Mark’s eventual pleasure.

“Okay, relax,” Mark told him and Fernando let his body melt with a sigh. Mark looked at him for a moment, studying his face, and Fernando couldn’t help wondering what he saw there. Mark’s tongue darted out, licking enticingly over his lips, and then he stepped away. “Take your clothes off,” he stated, moving to the foot of the bed where Fernando’s box was.

Fernando watched him as he snapped the catch open, lifting the lid and looking inside. His eyes scanned the objects and Fernando wondered if he was making his mind up now or if he’d already decided exactly what was going to happen when they finally got upstairs. When Mark looked up, meeting Fernando’s eyes again, he looked unimpressed, and that disappointment made Fernando’s stomach flip over unpleasantly. Mark raised his eyebrows in a silent question that Fernando made sure he wouldn’t have to ask by pulling his T-shirt over his head. Mark nodded, looking like he expected better, and then turned his attention back to the box.

Fernando’s jeans were already unfastened and so he simply pushed them down, lifting himself briefly from the bed to get them past his knees and then sitting again, kicking them to floor along with his underwear. He toed off his socks and then sat, hands on knees once again, waiting. Mark stepped away from the box, choosing not to take anything from it, but he left it open, a teasing hint that he wasn’t done with it yet. He slipped his cardigan from his shoulders, throwing it carelessly aside, and made his way back over to Fernando.

He stood above him, his knees brushing against Fernando’s as he reached down to run the back of his fingers over Fernando’s cheek. He smiled slightly for a moment and then let his hand fall away with a sigh, his eyes scanning down Fernando’s body. He looked at him shamelessly, appraising him in a way that made Fernando feel like a piece of his property. He finally met Fernando’s eyes again.

“Get yourself hard,” he instructed.

Fernando looked down at himself. He definitely wasn’t soft. His dick was swollen, throbbing dully, but he wasn’t completely rigid yet and he knew what Mark wanted. He wanted him to be leaking and desperate, just so he could tell him to stop.

He was aware of Mark moving, leaning over him, his mouth lining up with Fernando’s ear. “You gonna do it by sheer willpower, mate?”

Fernando let out a shaky breath, waiting for Mark to right himself, become an attentive audience, before he wrapped his hand around his cock, giving himself a little squeeze.

“No,” Mark said. Fernando looked up, confusion and remorse written over his features. “Eyes right here,” Mark told him, motioning to his own eyes. “Looking at me.”

Fernando swallowed. Looking into Mark’s eyes made him feel completely exposed, nowhere to hide. Mark would be able to see everything, every tiny flicker of arousal and need, would be able to watch as he lost his self-control and dignity to the act. He was used to Mark taking those things from him, but it always felt more humiliating when Mark made him hand them over willingly.

He began to move his hand, acutely aware of everything his face was doing. He started himself off slowly while he tried to adjust to the way staring into Mark’s eyes made him feel. It was as though he were under a microscope, every tiny movement blown up a thousand times. As self-conscious as that made him, he realised that it came with a payoff. Mark wasn’t looking at his hand, wasn’t paying any attention to the way he was actually touching himself, and that fact offered Fernando the freedom to do whatever felt good and not feel like he was being judged for it. Mark might be able to see right into his mind, his soul, all the wants and needs and dirty, filthy fantasies, but what Fernando was doing right now, in front of him, was only really for himself. There was no need to do anything fancy, no need to slow down and draw it out. He could do whatever felt good.

His hand moved faster over his cock as the thought spurred him on, freeing something up inside of him, and he soon felt the first drops of precome welling up at his tip. He paused, using his thumb to smear them satisfyingly over the head of his cock, trying not to groan at the feel of it. He chewed on his lip, concentrating on not looking away from Mark, the only thing that had been asked of him. He wanted to close his eyes, look over to the side, let his head fall back, and it became an ever harder battle to keep his gaze level. Mark simply stared back at him, eyes slightly darker than usual, a hint of arousal, but he was giving nothing away. He wasn’t encouraging, wasn’t impressed or enthusiastic, he was just watching steadily, connecting with Fernando on some base level that Fernando could barely deal with.

His cock was slick with precome now and he had to stop himself from rubbing his thumb over the slit anymore as he felt himself getting far too carried away by how good it felt. He needed to be hard, impressively so before Mark would be satisfied, but he didn’t need to make it more painful for himself than was necessary and the throbbing in his cock and balls was already more uncomfortable than he’d like. He could feel the sweat pooling on his body, in the hollow of his back, behind his knees, everything about him slowly unravelling.

He tried to be good, to wait it out, but he could feel his eyebrows drawing downwards, almost obscuring his vision, his face settling into an expression of pure, pleading desperation. A whine escaped him and he bit down on his lip again, trying to hold back the floodgates that wanted to open.

“You can tell me when you’re done,” Mark stated calmly.

“Done,” Fernando gritted out, high-pitched and frantic.

“You sure?” Mark asked.

Fernando nodded insistently before remembering that he needed to speak. He nearly broke down trying to find the simple, little word, taking a moment to collect himself. “Yes,” he finally managed.

Mark continued to hold his gaze for what felt like a tortured eternity. Finally he let his eyes flick downwards, appraising Fernando’s cock. “Okay,” he allowed. “You can stop.”

Fernando breathed out with relief, pulling his hand away as if it had been burned. He finally allowed his head to fall backwards, taking in huge gulps of air as his eyes darted over the ceiling, suddenly unsure what to focus on.

“Get on the bed then,” Mark told him.

It seemed to take a gargantuan effort for Fernando to move himself backwards, lifting his legs up onto the bed with him. He laid himself down facing Mark, unsure what to do with his limbs as he fought the urge to curl up into a ball and hide. Mark climbed onto the bed with him and Fernando felt himself instantly unfurl, making sure that when Mark moved in close he’d be able to touch every part of him. They weren’t touching though, not really. Fernando’s flesh was pressed up against the cotton of Mark’s T-shirt, the denim of his jeans. Mark’s hands were touching him though, making a proper connection, his fingers gliding over Fernando’s back, down to his arse. He tapped on the external part of the plug, the sensation vibrating through to Fernando’s cock and balls.

“Do you like wearing this?” Mark asked. “Being held open? Do you like knowing I could pop it out and fuck you right now without having to work you up to it?”

Fernando nodded his head, grateful when Mark let him bury his face in his neck. “Yes.”

“Yeah, I know,” Mark replied, kissing the side of Fernando’s face. “Because I know what a slut you are. Your mind’s always ready and you like it when your body’s ready too, don’t you?”

Fernando could feel himself blushing, squeezing his eyes shut. He wrapped an arm around Mark, clinging to him, his fingers gripping tightly to the fabric of Mark’s shirt. “Yes,” he admitted. “Please.”

“Lift your head up,” Mark told him.

Fernando hesitated, pressing his face more firmly against Mark’s neck, fighting with himself over his desire to hide away. He forced himself to move back though, waiting until the last possible moment to slide his eyes open and look at Mark. He didn’t get a chance to see much before Mark was pressing their mouths harshly together in a demanding kiss. Fernando melted, pushing in close as he parted his lips, groaning as Mark pushed his tongue inside. He kissed him deep and thorough, making his head spin, his body ache, his lungs burn, all the clichés.

When Mark pulled back, Fernando kept his eyes closed until he felt Mark’s fingers wrapping around his forearm and tugging. Fernando could feel separation anxiety welling up in him but he released his hold on Mark’s T-shirt, allowing his arm to be pulled from around Mark’s body. Mark held it between them for a moment, studying it, before he turned his attention to Fernando.

“Hold that for me a minute,” he instructed.

Confused by the request, Fernando lifted his left arm, wrapping his fingers around his right wrist and holding it steady where Mark had placed it. Mark smiled at him and hopped off the bed, walking around to Fernando’s still open box at the foot of the bed. Fernando was awkwardly aware that he was restraining himself as he waited, watching as Mark reached into the box, pulling one of the long, red ties dramatically out like a magician. Fernando knew about magic tricks though, all the little secrets, and the things that Mark was capable of never involved anything as mundane as sleight of hand.

Mark closed the box, placing it down on the floor. He joined Fernando back on the bed, taking control of his arm again and wrapping the silk material around his wrist a couple of times before securing it there. He gave a little tug, looking pleased with his handiwork.

“Stomach,” he instructed.

Fernando rolled, unable to stop himself from rubbing his cock briefly against the sheets as he settled onto his belly. Mark drew his arm backwards until the back of Fernando’s fingers were resting against his arse, and then he felt the vibration through his plug again, fingers and ribbon fluttering over his arse, and he realised that Mark was winding the material around the handle of his plug. Fernando’s heart began to beat a little faster as images, scenarios, ran through his head. He was barely even aware of Mark lifting his other arm, bringing it back behind him to secure on the remaining ribbon. Mark tied the final knot and then slid his finger experimentally into the small gaps between the fabric and Fernando’s skin, making sure the ties weren’t too tight. Once he was satisfied he gave Fernando’s shoulder a push, encouraging him back onto his side and settling in front of him again.

“Don’t pull that out,” he warned him. “I’ll be very upset.”

Fernando nodded. “Okay.”

Usually he liked to test the bonds himself, see how much give was in them; he always liked the feel of hitting the limit and knowing he had nowhere else to go, but he didn’t dare flex his wrists this time, too aware that any movement could dislodge the plug. Mark reached out, stroking down the side of his neck, fingers tickly, before following the line of his body, making Fernando shift into the teasing touch. He felt the plug begin to tug and he clenched tightly around it, forcing himself to still. He closed his eyes, concentrating on breathing in and out, keeping his cool, when Mark’s fingers suddenly wrapped around his cock, pulling hard.

“ _Dios mío_ ,” he gritted out, tensing hard to stop the jolt of pleasure making him flail.

He opened his eyes to see Mark smiling fondly at him, leaning in to place a kiss on his temple. “ _En Inglés_?” he whispered in his ear, practically the only Spanish phrase he’d bothered to learn.

Fernando closed his eyes again, knowing that Mark didn’t really care if he spoke Spanish so long as he got his point across and was clear when he needed to be. Besides, Mark understood a lot more Spanish than he let on. Fernando actually thought that Mark liked reducing him to his mother tongue more than he liked making him speechless altogether.

Mark stroked him firmly, using his knowledge of Fernando’s body to make it good, and Fernando was far too sensitive to be able to handle it. He pressed his face back into Mark’s neck as Mark kissed the side of his face, overwhelmed noises spilling from his lips as he fought to stay still, fought to hold his orgasm back. The pleasure was pulsing through him with each breath, building heartbeat upon heartbeat. He wanted to let go, wanted to let it wash satisfyingly over him, but instead he was held on the knife-edge, not really through his own determination but through Mark’s desires. Fernando had crossed the line, given himself fully to Mark, and Mark’s power over him was such that he didn’t think he could physically orgasm until Mark told him to, no matter how painful it got.

Mark finally slid his fingers away, but not before squeezing hard at the head of his cock, making him buck his hips, which in turn made his bonds give another tug at his plug. Mark shifted back from him, a firm hand on his shoulder encouraging him down onto the mattress.

“Stomach,” he directed, and Fernando was always so grateful in these moments for the simplicity of language, the clear, concise instructions. Anything more complicated and Fernando knew he’d be pulled out of himself trying to make sense of it, but Mark had a way of cutting through his clouded brain and making himself understood without disrupting Fernando’s distant, floaty mindset.

Fernando rolled onto his stomach, once again unable to resist pressing his hips down, rubbing his cock against the sheets. Mark moved from the bed and Fernando watched through half-shut eyes as he made his way around to Fernando’s box, bending down to it. When he stood again, he had the blindfold in his hands.

Fernando closed his eyes before Mark even reached him, knowing what was expected of him. He groaned slightly as Mark straddled his thighs, resting his weight just below Fernando’s tied hands, the denim of his jeans rough and uncomfortable against Fernando’s sensitive flesh.

“Lift up,” Mark instructed as he leaned over him and Fernando lifted his head from the pillow, sighing slightly as the cool, smooth material pressed against his closed eyelids. He waited until Mark had it secured in place and then let his head rest back against the soft pillow.

It was darker now than just having his eyes closed and Fernando felt a calmness settle over him. He’d never found the blindfold scary, not even the first time Mark had used it. Instead, it freed something up in him, gave him another place to hide. He trusted Mark completely, knew that nothing bad would happen to him, and so he used the darkness to help him go deeper inside himself, the lack of visual reference points making it so much easier to float.

Mark stayed leant over him, his lips grazing the back of Fernando’s neck, making a gentle trail down his spine. Fernando hummed happily, hips pressing further into the mattress. As Mark lifted his body from Fernando’s his hands landed on the back of Fernando’s knees, pushing them apart. Fernando allowed himself to be spread open, shuffling against the sheets once more, shameless in his pursuit of friction but knowing enough to know not to get carried away with it.

He felt Mark moving in between his legs, the cotton of Mark’s T-shirt a tickly sensation that made him shiver slightly, and then Mark’s hands wrapped around Fernando’s fingers, tugging them carefully upwards. Fernando felt his bonds pull tight, the plug inside him meeting resistance as it tried to move with them. Fernando clenched down, making a desperate little noise. It was unfair if Mark was going to make him fail on purpose.

Mark let go and then pressed down firmly on the plug, the pressure building as it was forced slightly deeper. Mark’s other hand made its way between Fernando’s legs, pressing down on the spot just behind Fernando’s balls that always sent a wonderful, shuddery feeling through him. He cried out at the duel sensations, not daring to move, not wanting to upset the perfect balance of what Mark was doing to him.

Mark’s hands left him all too soon though, making him needy and restless again. He chewed on his lip, embraced the darkness of his blindfold, and then a jolt went through him like a shock of electricity as Mark’s tongue slid down between his legs, over that wonderful spot, before he began lapping at Fernando’s balls. Fernando tensed, struggling to breathe as Mark licked over him again and again, and he could feel his balls drawing upwards, threatening to empty themselves. He whined, beside himself at the throbbing in his dick, the pure desperation that took over his entire body.

He wouldn’t come, he wouldn’t, he knew Mark wasn’t going to let him. He felt himself clench tighter around the plug, his whole body drawing inwards, and then Mark was gone, leaving him wet, ridiculously turned on, but still intact. Fernando breathed a sigh of relief as he felt Mark’s body move away from his, taking calming breaths to level himself out before Mark started up again.

He felt the knots on his left wrist loosen, the ties unwound before being pulled free. He let his arm drop down to the mattress beside him, making unintentional little noises as his plug was disturbed again, the material being freed from it. Mark didn’t unfasten the ribbon from his right wrist though, instead giving a little tug, raising Fernando’s arm away from his body.

“Sit.”

Fernando began to move, rolling first to his side and then using his arms to push himself upwards. It took him a while to manoeuvre himself, feeling unsure and unsteady as he tried to settle comfortably. He felt the bed dip with Mark’s movements and then his fingers were sliding in between the bonds and Fernando’s wrist while Fernando swayed slightly, feeling too heavy.

“Wiggle your fingers,” Mark told him. Fernando did as he was told while Mark held lightly onto his wrist. “Make a fist.” Fernando curled his fingers tightly inwards before releasing them, allowing them to slowly unfurl. “Okay, good,” Mark said. “Pins and needles?”

Fernando shook his head. “Is fine,” he responded, irritation clear in his voice. Too many words, too many pointless instructions.

“Okay,” Mark agreed. He ran his fingers over the silky material, tickling slightly at the inside of his wrist, Fernando making a contented noise. Mark tugged on the ribbon. “We’re moving,” he stated. “Follow.”

Fernando shifted himself until he could crawl along the bed, following the guidance of Mark’s gentle pull. He imagined what he looked like in his mind; on all fours, tethered, led. Instead of feeling any shame he let the humility of it wash over him, allowing it to open up a further door inside him, an escape from himself.

“Stop,” Mark told him. “There’s the edge.”

He guided Fernando’s hand to feel the edge of the bed and Fernando curled his fingers around it, safe in the knowledge that Mark wouldn’t let him fall.

“Sit,” Mark instructed.

Fernando moved his legs around, dangling them over the edge of the bed until he felt the floor. Mark clearly still had hold of the other end of the ribbon, pulling slowly to lift Fernando’s hand from his lap.

“Stand.”

Fernando shifted his weight to his feet, swaying slightly as he tried to find his bearings. He wasn’t sure that it was really the blindfold making him lose touch with his surroundings. The carpet felt thicker than usual under his toes and he used that physical connection to literally ground him, trying to keep his balance. Mark gave another tug on what Fernando had come to think of as his lead and he took a shaky step forward and then another.

“Turn,” Mark encouraged, guiding him with his hands now until he had him facing the right direction. “Now kneel.”

Fernando folded gratefully to his knees, imagining the silky material of his tie slipping through Mark’s fingers as his arm offered him no resistance, the ribbon fluttering down by his thigh. Kneeling was familiar, a comfort to Fernando. He knew the emotions that went along with it, knew that he was being put in his place, and he loved the simplicity of that. He didn’t need to think when he was down on his knees. All that was required was that he bow his head, keep his hands by his sides, and wait. It gave him a chance to relax into his submission, to really savour it. It let his mind wander easily off to that place; dark and calm where he was absolved of all responsibility.

His ears pricked up at the sounds of Mark moving, the rustle of clothing. He knew exactly how Mark undressed and he pictured it in his mind now, the way he pulled his T-shirt over his head, dropping it from his fingers. He heard a zip being pulled down, loud in the quiet of the room, and he drew in a breath as he listened to the denim being shoved down Mark’s legs, revealing strong thighs, firm calves, the scar on his knee that Fernando liked to kiss. He could hear Mark’s feet padding across the carpet, moving closer to him, and he held his breath, waiting with creeping anticipation.

“Move forward,” Mark instructed from somewhere ahead of him.

Fernando shuffled on his knees until he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder, stopping him. Mark shifted, taking hold of Fernando’s tie again, lifting his arm. He pulled, guiding Fernando closer until he was bracketed by Mark’s spread thighs. The ribbon was pulled further and then Mark lifted Fernando’s other arm, handing him the end of his own lead. As Fernando took hold he could tell that the material was wrapped around Mark’s back and it made him feel so surrounded and protected, like Mark was still holding onto him, even when he was making him hold onto himself.

Fernando felt his head guided down and he opened his mouth, eagerly accepting Mark’s cock between his lips. He let himself be pushed down until the curly hairs tickled his nose, until the tip of Mark’s cock was pushing at the back of his throat, threatening to make him gag. As he was held there, taking in shallow breaths through his nose, all of his senses so suffocated by Mark, he felt himself drifting, cut free from the world. The heaviness in his limbs dissipated, leaving him with a feeling of utter contentment that washed over him like a wave, drowning out every anxiety and insecurity, drowning out his sense of self until he didn’t care about anything but this, right in front of him, what he was being given.

He began to suck gently, instinctively, Mark releasing his hold on him and letting him bob his head up and down, letting him play. Fernando gripped the ribbon tighter in his left hand, feeling the resistance of Mark’s body pulling on it. He loved the feeling of being physically attached to Mark, being tethered to him so that he couldn’t get lost.

He heard Mark sigh, a subtle noise of contentment, and he imagined the way that Mark would be looking down at him, dark eyes admiring what Fernando was doing as he took in the sight of him on his knees. It was a place that Fernando loved to be, but that didn’t mean he’d give it up like this to just anyone. He was fairly sure that was where the thrill of it came from for Mark; not the power or the submission but the _trust_.

He groaned around Mark’s cock at the thought of it, the connection. He wanted to hold Mark, wanted to grip him, cling to him, but his brain seemed to have shut down his gross motor skills along with his free choice. His body didn’t quite feel like his own, which was absolutely Fernando’s favourite thing about this. It was a disassociation that left him feeling completely free and unburdened by all the demands of his day to day life.

He found himself sucking harder on Mark’s cock at the thought, focusing everything he had on the simple act as he gripped the ribbon tighter in his left hand as if it were a lifeline. He found the repetitive rhythm of the blowjob comforting, transporting him easily away. It was a moment he could happily live inside, dependent on Mark and yet free to indulge himself.

Mark’s fingers ghosted over his hair, a tickle of sensation, before the blindfold was loosened from around his head, sliding away. Fernando made a noise of protest as he squeezed his eyes tightly shut, not wanting to be drawn back into the world. He wanted to stay where he was, suspended in that wonderful bubble of sensation where there was no down or up or consequences.

Mark stroked over his hair and then let his hand trail down over Fernando’s cheek, blushing and hollowed. He ran his fingers down Fernando’s throat, making him instinctively swallow around Mark’s cock, and that visceral reminder to Fernando that he wasn’t even in control of his own body made him shiver and groan, safe in the floaty darkness even without his blindfold.

Mark took hold of his jaw, pushing him firmly back until he was forced to let Mark’s cock slip from his lips. He sucked redundantly, licked at his lips, until Mark placed two fingers under his chin and tipped his head back, clearly looking at him.

“Eyes open,” he said, voice quiet but demanding.

Fernando let them flutter reluctantly open, peering through the slits at Mark’s intense face, his steady gaze focused on Fernando’s mouth. He lifted his thumb, tracing over Fernando’s swollen lips, smearing the saliva, making Fernando feel dirty and shameless. He whimpered, wanting desperately to draw it in, find that comforting suction once again. A smile spread over Mark’s face, slow and satisfied, before he met Fernando’s eyes, his hand sliding away.

As Mark leaned forward, the ribbon Fernando was holding onto shifted with him, threatening to make Fernando lose his balance. He felt himself tilt as if the world were off kilter, and then he corrected himself just as Mark’s arm reached around him, twisting the plug. Fernando gasped at the sudden shock of arousal that came from being directly stimulated, almost forgetting that he could get pleasure from himself instead of just from Mark. As Mark spun his plug around and around inside him, Fernando let his head loll to the side, eyes falling closed again. The feeling of fullness the plug gave him no longer seemed like a tease but a promise and he gritted out a noise of frustration that was supposed to say _pretty please_.

Mark licked the side of his face before his lips were brushing against Fernando’s ear. “I bet you’d do anything to get my cock inside you right now,” he whispered harshly. “Any disgusting, depraved little thing I could think of.”

Fernando murmured a noise of agreement, nodding his head.

“The things I could do with you,” Mark pondered darkly.

He bit down on Fernando’s earlobe until Fernando whined and then he grazed his teeth over Fernando’s neck, pushing down on his pulse point. It spoke to some primal part of Fernando, a fear laced with intense need. Mark’s hand twisted the plug one more time and then he pulled it swiftly out, making Fernando give a broken little sob. He felt open and wet, upsettingly empty, and his toes curled with desperation as he tried to silently urge Mark to press his fingers inside, give him something, _anything_. Instead, Mark tossed the plug aside, landing with a heavy thud, and Mark’s hand traced the line of Fernando’s body, travelling back up to his shoulder where it rested.

“Ask me.”

Fernando made a noise of pure frustration, sucking in air through his gritted teeth as he shook his head back and forth. Mark’s index finger followed the curve where Fernando’s neck met his shoulder, stroking over and over in a way that managed to both ground Fernando and set his skin irritatingly on edge. He couldn’t talk, couldn’t even begin to work out what he would ask for. He was thinking in pictures now and they flashed through his mind, lurid and explicit. He tried to focus, tried to find a common theme, but it was too much. He lifted his head, opened his eyes in order to seek out Mark’s, trying to express his helplessness. Mark just looked steadily back at him, kind but unforgiving. Fernando shook his head again.

“It’s okay,” Mark soothed.

Fernando had to look away because nothing about this was okay. He needed Mark to take control, to lead him through and tell him what was going to happen next. He was gone, a passenger to what was happening, and sometimes he thought Mark didn’t understand how domination worked if he wasn’t willing to step up and bend Fernando to his will.

Fernando felt a hot tear spill down his cheek and he squeezed his eyes shut, mortified by his own weakness. Mark reached out, following the line of the tear up Fernando’s face and wiping it away. Fernando opened his eyes again, looking up at Mark, embarrassed and pleading.

“Let it go,” Mark told him.

Fernando took a breath, the instruction freeing something up inside him. A knot melted from his chest, a heaviness slipping from his shoulders as he took cool but shaky breaths in and out, embracing the surrender of his last obstacle; the pride that stopped him offering his own desires instead of simply acting on Mark’s. Fernando didn’t want to want anything, he wanted to be made to submit to someone else’s ideal so that, when he came back down, nothing would be his fault.

He focused himself, his breathing coming slower and steadier as he stared into Mark’s patient eyes. Mark’s lips parted in encouragement, prompting Fernando to find his voice, and Fernando followed suit, hoping the words would come.

“You fuck me,” he finally managed. The words weren’t eloquent but they were honest and Fernando was proud of himself for stringing together that much.

Mark nodded his agreement. “You’re a good boy,” he told Fernando, brushing hair back from his face. He reached down, tugging the ribbon that Fernando held in his left hand. “Mine,” he prompted, and Fernando let go, his arm falling heavily against his thigh, the single word resonating through his body and leaving him with a warm contentment.

Mark stood, stepping to the side and then pulling the ribbon, leading Fernando back onto the bed. Fernando crawled, letting Mark position him, letting him push down between his shoulder blades until Fernando’s arms buckled beneath him, face pressed into the pillows and arse offered up in the air.

Mark moved onto the bed behind him, hands smoothing over Fernando’s lower back, his arse, before settling at his hips, holding firmly. Fernando held his breath as he waited, his entire consciousness focussed on Mark’s strong hands and his own wet opening where he wanted Mark to be. When he finally felt Mark’s cock pressing against his hole, Fernando keened, tilting his hips upwards.

Mark slid easily inside, Fernando’s body more than ready after being held open for so long, and it was such a relief to finally have something _real_ inside him, hot flesh and pumping blood. He groaned appreciatively, pressing backwards, but Mark’s hands tightened on his hips.

“Don’t move.”

Fernando tried to nod, murmuring some kind of agreement. He waited but Mark didn’t move either, he just stayed there, buried deep inside Fernando’s body, deeper than the plug could go, forcing him open in an entirely different way that was infinitely more satisfying. Fernando made a series of noises, both wishing he had the words to beg and grateful that he didn’t.

Mark’s thumb rubbed circles over his hip in a way that felt somehow soothing and controlling at the same time. He moved back, his cock dragging almost all the way out of Fernando’s body before he pushed it back in again just as slowly. He held it there, his pelvis pressing against Fernando’s arse in a constant pressure, making him groan. Fernando wanted desperately to thrust back, fuck himself on Mark’s dick, but he forced himself to stay still, to follow Mark’s instructions and appreciate what he had.

When Mark moved again, just as agonisingly slowly, Fernando found himself appreciating every tiny millimetre of friction, every minute spark of pleasure that it sent through him. It was overwhelming really, how little Mark had to do to tip him over the edge, and he moaned, feeling himself cut free again, spiralling off to that pleasant little place where nothing existed but this.

As Mark began to fuck him properly, hard and fast and with clear abandon, Fernando turned his head to the side, trying to find some air. Everything felt slightly hazy, closing in around the edges so that he was surrounded by nothing but Mark. He concentrated on the way Mark’s body slammed into his, the way he was continually forced into the mattress, the way every thrust made him feel warmer, lighter, more indescribably fulfilled.

Mark was making noises behind him, grunts of pleasure and exertion that seemed to float lazily to Fernando’s ears as though he was far away. The physical sensations didn’t seem to quite match up to all of Fernando’s other senses, dulled down now where they were once vibrant and alive. He wasn’t certain of anything but the way Mark was working his body and the way it made him feel. Until Mark closed a hand around his dick, he was barely even aware of the throbbing between his own legs.

He cried out, eyes squeezed tightly shut as he tried to remember what he was supposed to be doing. _Don’t move, don’t come._ He repeated it to himself like a mantra until the words spun away from him and he found himself operating on that base level of instinct where everything came down to his total trust and reliance of Mark. If Mark didn’t want him to come then he wouldn’t come, so he let it wash over him, riding out every screamingly good sensation until he finally heard those words.

“Come for me.”

It was like a switch being flipped and Fernando felt it instantly, the floodgates opening as his body shook, sweat sliding over him, everything held in suspended animation for one wonderful moment before it came crashing down on him, a wave of pure euphoria that started somewhere deep inside him and spread until he was consumed by it, his whole body feeling as though it were lighting up from the inside out. Mark continued to move inside him, hard and fast, and Fernando moaned, feeling himself pushed right through the limit.

Mark came, fingernails digging dully into Fernando’s hips, but Fernando could barely feel it, his mind disconnected from his body and in that sweet somewhere else. As soon as Mark pulled out of him, Fernando dropped down heavily onto the bed, curling into a ball and trying not to let anything interrupt that sensation. Mark knew enough to not try and touch him now, to leave him to come down on his own. He stayed close, watched him carefully, but he never touched. Fernando didn’t want anything that would bring him back down into his wasted, too sensitive body.

After a while, as Fernando’s mind and body began to meet halfway, he was aware of Mark leaving the bed and he listened to the sounds of him in the bathroom; running taps and splashing water. It was a sound that left him feeling strangely contented, even though he knew where it was leading. When Mark returned to the bedroom he climbed back onto the bed, reaching out and lifting Fernando’s wrist, touching the ribbon that was still tied there.

“Finished,” he said gently.

Fernando shook his head. “ _Volador_.”

“No,” Mark told him. “Finished now.”

He unfastened the ribbon, pulling it away from Fernando’s wrist, and Fernando could feel himself dropping already. He pushed his face into the pillow, feeling petulant and needy.

Mark moved from the bed and Fernando heard the taps in the bathroom running again. He curled himself instinctively tighter, trying to hide. Everything seemed stark, almost painful, and so unbearably plain and everyday. Fernando wanted to just stay in his happy place for a little longer.

“You’re lying in the wet patch,” Mark told him.

Fernando shrugged, grunting a response.

“Move,” Mark insisted.

Fernando grumbled slightly, rolling himself over to the other side of the bed and then sprawling out, knowing what came next. Mark used the warm, damp cloth to wipe him down, cleaning gently and methodically over his stomach, between his legs. He did it with great care, almost reverence, and Fernando revelled in the way that it made him feel so looked after and cared for. The physical act brought him back down to earth, but Mark made sure he was in good hands when he finally awakened fully to his surroundings.

He listened again to Mark moving around, rinsing out the washcloth, putting things away. The snap of the catch closing on his leather box made him jump slightly, a sinking feeling settling in his gut. He could feel himself frowning, a pout forming as he heard the drawer close in the dresser, a noise that signified an ending.

Mark came back over to the bed, the soft cotton of pyjama pants touching Fernando’s feet. Fernando made a noise of protest, drawing his feet up and crossing his ankles over to make sure Mark couldn’t get them on.

“You’ll get cold,” Mark stated.

Fernando shook his head. Any touch still felt like needles dragging over his flesh and he couldn’t bear the thought of having the material of his pants clinging to his legs.

“If you don’t put them on I’ll wrap you in the duvet,” Mark told him.

Fernando grimaced. The thought of the thick duvet made him feel horribly claustrophobic as he clung onto the last remnants of that flying sensation. He relented, stretching out his legs and helping Mark to get the trousers on. Mark sat beside him on the bed then, stroking over his hair until he finally opened his eyes. Mark smiled down at him; Fernando just squinted back.

“You going to sleep it off?” Mark asked.

“You?” Fernando responded, still not quite able to work out how to speak in sentences, but he knew he would be understood with Mark.

“I’m going to make a start on dinner,” Mark responded. “It’s getting late.”

Fernando nodded. He stretched his body, grounding himself back in the physical. “I come downstairs.”

“Yeah?” Mark asked.

Fernando gave him a tired smile, reaching out to brush his fingers over Mark’s thigh, clad in the denim of his jeans again. Mark leaned down, placing a kiss on his forehead.

“Come on then.”

He got to his feet, tossing a T-shirt at Fernando who was struggling to sit himself up. Fernando glared sleepily at him.

“You are cruel.”

“I’m cruel?” Mark asked incredulously. “For keeping you warm and looking after you?”

“You make me move,” Fernando complained, wrapping his arms around his knees and resting his head down on them. He didn’t want to think about how he was going to get down the stairs.

“You need a minute?” Mark asked him. Fernando nodded his head. Mark came back onto the bed, sitting cross-legged in front of him. “I’m not making you move. Stay here. No duvet, I promise.”

Fernando lifted his head slightly, peeping at Mark over his knees. “I stay near you.”

Mark nodded. “Okay.” They sat for a few moments, looking at each other. “I can stay up here,” Mark offered. “Let me grab my laptop, there’s plenty I can do.”

Fernando shook his head. “Hungry.”

Mark gave a small laugh. “Right. Priorities.” He got to his feet. “Put your T-shirt on then.”

Fernando retrieved the item, trying not to cringe as he pulled it over his flesh. Mark offered out a hand and Fernando allowed himself to be helped to his feet, Mark keeping a loose hold on his fingers as they left the room. Fernando held the banister tightly once they got to the stairs, taking each step one at a time. When he finally got to the bottom he was never so grateful to see the sofa. He flopped himself down onto it, curling up on his side with a contented noise.

“You’re like a cat,” Mark told him, crouching down by his side and moving stray strands of hair out of his face. “I never liked cats.”

“I can be puppy,” Fernando told him.

“Maybe you can,” Mark agreed vaguely in a voice that Fernando couldn’t quite decipher, already drifting back off to sleep. “I’ll let you know when dinner’s ready,” Mark told him, getting back to his feet. Fernando listened to him cross the room. “I’ll keep the door closed so the boys don’t bother you, but yell if you need anything, alright?”

“ _Gracias_ ,” Fernando replied.

He snuggled further into the sofa cushions as he listened to the sound of the kitchen door opening and closing, taking the end of his thumb unconsciously into his mouth. He heard Mark greeting the dogs who seemed excited to see him, chatting softly to them as he moved around the kitchen, pans and cutlery clanking around. It was a sharp noise, uncomfortable to Fernando’s ears, and he murmured to himself, pushing the side of his head more firmly into the sofa cushion in an attempt to block it out. As much as the sounds set him on edge though, the domestication of it soothed him. Mark was still looking after him, still indulging him.

Fernando worried his thumb between his teeth slightly, running the fingertips of his other hand over the sofa cushions and feeling the subtle textures as his senses connected back with the world. He sighed at the feel of it, beginning to suck gently on his thumb as he heard Mark humming a tune from the kitchen, lulling him off to sleep.


End file.
